Chapter <b>152 </b>
Reba’s POV
I stood at the floor–to–ceiling window of the luxurious safe house, my fingertips pressed against the cool ss. The reflection staring back at me was a stranger–pale face, tight lips, eyes filled with uncertainty. Behind me, the massive bed and elegant furniture seemed to emphasize how out of ce I felt. This wasn’t my world. Maybe it never could be.
The night outside was quiet, too quiet. Nothing like the constant hum of the city I was used to. Here, in this secluded mountain retreat, every sound felt amplified–including Dominic’s voice as it carried from the study down
the hall.
“I don’t <b>care </b>what his father’s connections <b>are</b>,” he was saying, voice cold and controlled in a way that made my skin prickle. “If he doesn’t <b>stand </b>down, handle it. Permanently.”
My fingers clutched the edge of the curtain. Handle it. Permanently. The clinical detachment in those words made my stomach clench. I knew what they meant. I wasn’t naive. And yet hearing Dominic speak about ending someone’s life with the same tone he might use to order coffee was jarring in ways I couldn’t articte.
I heard footsteps approaching and quickly moved away from the window, grabbing a book from the nightstand and pretending to be engrossed. Dominic appeared in the doorway <b>so </b>silently it was startling. I jumped slightly, the teacup on the side table wobbling <b>as </b>my hand knocked against it.
“Sorry,” he said<b>, </b>stepping into the room. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t,” I <b>lied</b>, steadying the cup. I just… didn’t hear you.”
He crossed the room and handed me a fresh cup of tea. When I took it, I was careful to avoid touching his fingers. An unconscious gesture that I immediately regretted when I saw the flicker in his eyes. He’d noticed.
“You seem tired,” he said, reaching out to check my forehead for fever.
I couldn’t help it–I leaned back, away from his touch. The movement <b>was </b>subtle but unmistakable. His <b>hand </b>froze <b>in </b>midair, then slowly withdrew.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, forcing a smile that felt brittle.
The awkward moment <b>was </b>interrupted by my phone ringing. An unknown number shed on the screen. Hesitantly, I answered.
“Hello?”
“Reba. The voice sent ice through my veins. Dn Hurst. “I hope you’re enjoying your little <b>hideaway</b><b>.</b><b>” </b>
My body went rigid. Dominic was instantly alert, moving to stand behind me, his eyes sharp as a predator’s..
<b>9:10 </b>Fri, Sep 26 B<b>.. </b>
“What do you want, Dn? I asked, my voice steadier,
“It’s simple, he said, his <b>tone </b>almost conversational. “I want you to meet me at Oak Park tomorrow at noon. Come
alone.”
Dominic leaned closer, his breath warm against my car as he whispered, “Ask why.”
“Why would I do <b>that</b>?” I repeated, drawing strength from Dominic’s presence even as his proximity made my heart
race.
Dn’sugh was cold. “Because if I smell <b>any </b>Alpha on you–if I so much as catch a whiff of Sterling–your friend Sofia will <b>have </b><b>an </b>unfortunate ident at her magazine office. I have people watching her, you know.”
Dominic’s eyes shed dangerously blue. He nodded at me, mouthing words I followed.
“How do I know you won’t hurt me?” I asked, fingers gripping the phone <b>until </b>my knuckles turned white.
“<b>You </b>don’t,” Dn replied. “But you know for certain what happens if you don’t show up. Noon, Oak <b>Park</b>. Ande alone, Reba. I’ll know if you don’t.”
The call ended. I slowly lowered the phone, my <b>hand </b>trembling.
Dominic immediately began making calls, his voice calm and methodical as he arranged security details and what sounded like some kind of trap. The clinical way he discussed positioning “assets” and “neutralizing threats” made me stare at his hands–those same hands that had touched me so gently, now orchestrating violence with practiced
ease.
When he asked what I thought about cing surveince around Oak Park, I could only nod, my throat suddenly tight. The man standing before me felt like a stranger–powerful, dangerous, calcting in ways I couldn’tprehend.
The weight of it <b>all </b>suddenly crashed down on me. I mumbled an excuse and hurried to the bathroom, barely making it before violent nausea overtook me. I locked the door, turned the faucet on full st to cover the sound, and emptied my stomach.
“Reba? Dominic’s voice came through the door, concerned. “Are you alright?”
even
I slumped against the cool tile floor, my body trembling. “I’m fine,” I called back, my voice unconvincing to my own ears. “Just give me a minute.”
“Let me <b>in</b><b>. </b>I can help.”
“No!” The word came out
sharper than 1 intended. “I mean… I’m okay. Just need a moment alone.”
Mated by Contract to the Alpha